The most beautiful meadow lay before me. Picturesque Debauchery, a hedonistic dream.

I ventured forwards, listening to a babbling brook sing a paean of praise.

Perhaps of itself. Who knows, who knows.

Everything
seemed so full of sorrowful pulchritude, as though Melpomene ran
silently with it all. Pain seemed writ large on everything, as it
outwardly appeared calm, peaceful. Like the surface of a lake. Gentle
ripples outside. Simmering tensions inside.

The green leas vanished.

A dark gray passage. Portraits on the side.

Faces vaguely familiar. Some benevolent. Some glaring. Some gloating.

Calm outside, seemingly. Their eyes betrayed them.

Pain within, writ large and clear.

Silence. Deafening silence.

I was moving forwards. My feet thudding, but no sound ensuing.

Phantom shapes moved around.

The ground seemed to wind upwards, higher, higher, higher.

I found myself before a large wall covered with the most exquisite tapestry one could fathom.

Laughter. Cold. Mirthless. Shrill.

A flash of light.

The tapestry falls, revealing the largest mirror possible.

I see my face.

Magnified manifold.

Contorted with fury and pain.

The glass breaks, shards of glass pierce through my body. I cry out in agony.